Maiocxx

Cody and Lucas

A Personal Slaveboy Story

Chapters 14-17

"Right away, Dad," replied Cody gently.

Throwing a few things in the SUV, they and the Twins set a new land speed record between Colorado Springs and the Coast.

They pulled into the long familiar driveway late the next afternoon and went immediately to see Ruth.

She was resting comfortably, but all of them were shaken by how frail and thin she was. This was only a shell of the strong, vibrant Mom who had been their mainstay for as long as any of them could remember. This tower of strength and compassion, truly the 'Shining Star' for all of them. Without being told, they knew Ruth's journey in this life would soon be over.

The Twins knelt beside her bed, heads in their hands, sobbing. "Oh Grammie! Please don't leave us. We need you! Who will be our Shining Star?" No longer brave teens, they were little boys again and she was their Grammie who had loved and comforted them when their Mom had gone on to the Spirit World.

"How I remember when two mischievous little boys came to share our family and bring new joy and purpose to us. And look at you now. Two handsome, brave, loving young men to make any grandmother proud. Being your Shining Star has been a much greater honor than even being made a Dame of the Empire. I will still be your Shining Star in the next world, waiting until you make that journey many years from now. Until then, you will always be in my heart."

"Oh Grammie, you will always be in our hearts, too. If the Spirits will let us, we will visit you often." With a hug and a kiss, they withdrew to their own rooms in the 'Bachelor Pad' and cried as they hadn't done since their own Mom had passed on.

Trying not to weep… and failing… Cody and Lucas came to her. They, too, felt like little boys again.

"Cody, son of my body, how could any mother ask for more. A truly outstanding young man, a loving son and who I know will look after your father when I am gone. I am proud of so many things: your love for me and your father, how you love and revere your brother, how you were truly master, best friend and big brother to him when he needed you, how you and he have raised the two best grandsons, your courage to help other young kids who are in need! Oh, I shall miss you! But know that I will be waiting for you some day."

"And you, Lucas, son of my heart, who has brought so much joy to our family and taught us all what love and courage and compassion really mean. I count the day I found you truly the most blessed day of my life and then to discover you are really my flesh and blood! You struggled up from abuse and slavery to love us all with your very being."

"And now it seems, there are Anna and Josh. I can go to that next world with the joy of a mother who knows that she lives on in this world and the next in her children. And to know also I may have other unknown children out there has made me feel very blessed."

They were both rendered speechless. Finally, all they could say was, "We love you, Mom." A long tender kiss, and they went to comfort their sons… and themselves.

John sat down beside her and held her hand. For a while they were silent.

And then they began recounting all the times they had been together. "Do you remember when…?" "Yes, I remember and it was…" Their love, so tender yet strong!

And just as the sun was rising on a new day, Ruth slipped away.

True to her promise, Clara Barton arrived early that morning and took over the functions of running the house. "I spoke to Dora Washington before I left," she told them, "and the school will waive the two remaining finals for the Twins. And Teri Norden will look after your house, so Edward and the boys will be here tomorrow."

They did all manage to eat dinner together that evening, even locked in their pall of sorrow. Right after dinner, the Twins excused themselves, and John, Cody and Lucas sat in the living room mostly silent.

The Twins rejoined them.

At fourteen, they were at an age when it was no longer considered proper for them to dance nude. But there was no way they would let their Grammie… their Shining Star… travel to the Spirit World without a proper sendoff.

They had completely shaved their heads and covered every inch of their bodies with white, the traditional color of mourning in the culture of their birth.

Accompanied by the familiar flute melodies, they began to dance. Awkwardly at first… they had not done so for several years… then more confidently than they had ever danced. Their maturing bodies still remembered the familiar twists and postures.

For sixty full minutes, they paid tribute to their beloved Grammie and finally collapsed on the floor exhausted, while the music continued. John, Cody and Lucas joined them there and they all cried themselves out.

But, the dancers had worked their magic… as they always did… and, when they at last arose, the pall of sorrow was gone. They could rejoice that Ruth was in a better place, waiting to greet them when their time came.

It took both bathrooms and two dads to remove the white makeup from two exhausted teens, and carry them to their bed in Ronnie's room. They rolled into each other's arms and were asleep instantly.

For Cody and Lucas, sleep didn't come so readily. They lay together lost in thought, "How could they possibly live up to their Mom's love and expectations."

Finally, Cody spoke. "Do you think she has found Josh?"

"Yeah, I'm sure she has," replied his brother. "The one I wonder about is Timmy."

"It's strange you should mention him. I've thought a lot about him since Anna's visit. You don't suppose…"

"I don't know. I don't remember a kid with that name on 'the block' but that's a long time ago. It's certainly possible. Perhaps he is."

Timmy had been thrust briefly into their lives the summer Lucas was twelve, shortly before the terrible cycle accident.

Ruth had always considered the whole thing a complete failure, one that caused her and the family great sorrow. But, to John and the Boys, it spoke volumes about her ceaseless efforts to save at-risk or abused children… one child at a time, if necessary… regardless of personal cost.

Timmy certainly qualified as an at-risk child; he had been sentenced to hang for raping and strangling his two younger sisters.

One afternoon, Ruth came home from the class she taught at the University with her mind in turmoil. It wasn't until after dinner she decided to share her concern with the family. She had asked Cody and Lucas to stay, as what she was going to tell them directly related to Lucas.

"This afternoon," she began, "one of my friends introduced me to a Doctor de Boer. I knew the name… he's quite well known on the faculty… but I had never met him before. I discovered he is psychiatric researcher and has been studying ways to alter the personalities of persons who have committed serious crimes. He believes he can 'erase' their old crime-ridden personality and replace it with a new one.

"Sort of like updating their computer program," observed Lucas, intrigued by the idea.

"No, more like installing a new operating system, I should think," put in John.

"Exactly!" continued Ruth. "Right now, he is working on a young subject named Timmy."

"The one who killed his sisters?" asked Cody. "It was on all the news. I thought he had been sentence to hang."

The news reports had documented how Timmy had tortured squirrels when he was younger. He was an adopted child and his parents tended to brush off these and other antisocial acts; they were just part of his being a boy growing up. He cruelly bullied younger children, including his sisters, and they ignored that behavior, too. Until it was too late!

"That's the one," replied Ruth. "He convinced the authorities to let him experiment on the boy before the sentence is carried out. He's hopeful he can 'cure' him and the court will commute his sentence. I was tempted to dismiss his work as quackery, but he is eminently respected, so I decided to hear him out."

"He wants to find a young slave the same age as Timmy and who looks like him. You meet the criteria, Lucas, and he wants our help."

"How?" asked Lucas, more intrigued.

"He wants to use you as the model for Timmy's new personality. Oh, Lucas! I'm not sure we should put you through this. I told Dr. de Boer I would have to ask you. He was surprised and had trouble understanding why I wouldn't just order you to do it. After all, you're just a slave. I set him straight on that issue and told him it would be your decision."

"Ma'am, if it could help save Timmy from the gallows! I know he's done terrible things and should be punished. But, I can't bear the thought of him…." He was close to tears.

"Lucas come to me, please," and she enfolded him in her arms. Cody bit his lip; he could feel his Slave's turmoil. They had talked about Timmy's crime when it happened. He knew how sad Lucas had been for the little girls, but he had been sad for Timmy, too.

"Lucas, you don't have to do this," insisted Ruth.

"Yes! I must! It's what you and Sir and Master have taught me. Everyone, no matter what they've done, deserves to be forgiven. And Sir said he would give his life for me, so surely I can try to help poor Timmy." Ruth hugged him close and John and Cody simply shook their heads in wonder.

"What do I have to do?"

"You'll give him a blood sample, and a DNA sample. And the Doctor will put some leads on your body to record your emotions and brain activity for a day or two." She stopped for a moment, swallowed, and went on, "One of the things he particularly wants to record is," and she stumbled again, and then squeaked, "He asked if you were sexually active and I admitted you were and he wants to record you when you and Cody have sex."

Both Lucas and Cody gasped, and Cody turned bright red. Lucas looked Ruth straight in the eye and nodded. He walked over to his brother. "Please Cody… Master… it's no secret we make love and Ma'am and Sir know it and are happy we do."

Cody took Lucas's head in his hands and kissed him. "Oh Lucas, my love! Whatever will I do with you?"

John looked at Ruth. "The time is getting very close," he whispered to her.

The blood sample turned out to be a half pint, but Lucas suffered no ill effects. The leads on his head and chest were a bit annoying but he took them in stride.

The two of them approached their first 'recorded' night together with some nervousness, but teen-age hormones and their deep love for each other overcame science. They had a very exciting romp, including a fierce sixty-nine.

And, that was that… they thought.

About two weeks later, Dr. de Boer called with an additional request. He explained the experiment seemed to be successful. Would Lucas be willing to meet with Timmy and give his opinion how nearly Timmy matched him.

Ruth was inclined to say no, but Lucas talked her out of it. "Please, Ma'am, we need to know for sure whether Timmy is 'cured'. I can do this."

"You belong to Cody. It's up to him."

Cody knew how much Lucas wanted to see for himself, so he gave his 'little brother' permission. And a date was set.

Arriving at the University, they were directed to Dr. de Boer's suite where they met him and sat down to talk. Lucas was in his best Slave behavior, and Cody released him at once. The Doctor was impressed.

"I removed Timmy's old personality using a combination of drugs and electrical stimulation," he explained. "Following that he was in a vegetative state. Then I infused your Slave's blood and entered the recorded information directly to his cerebral cortex and he came out of that behaving like a normal child."

"Lucas, I need you to go into his room next door and simply visit with him for about an hour. It'll be perfectly safe; you will be under surveillance. But he's a completely different child. OK, he's on a chain… the court made me do that… but I think you'll find him a normal, healthy boy, just like yourself."

Lucas nodded, walked over to the door, opened it and walked in, closing it behind him.

The next hour was one of the most nervous the family had ever spent.

Finally, the time was up, and Lucas came out of Timmy's room, pulling his shirt on.

"Holy shit!" was his opening comment.

"Lucas!" admonished Ruth.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but it's like seeing myself in a mirror! He looks like me, he talks like me, and he behaves like me.

"How did he respond to your sexual advances?" asked the doctor.

Before Ruth could object, Lucas answered, "He was the one who wanted sex. He could hardly wait to get my clothes off."

"You must be mistaken," said the doctor, starting to be agitated.

"No sir! He asked me if we could have sex. I told him I would rather not, but he insisted on undressing me."

"That's preposterous!" said the doctor. "He's not that kind of boy! Why did you say that, slave?"

"Sir, that's what happened! I thought the cure was perfect… at first"

"What do you mean, 'at first'?" asked the doctor, growing more agitated.

"Sir, everything seemed OK until I looked into his eyes. What I saw there gave me the chills. I saw anger and cruelty, a killer in those eyes. I also saw a boy who is frightened to death he'll be found out and sent to the gallows."

"Why do you keep saying these things?" shouted the doctor. "You're just trying to discredit me. His cure is perfect and you don't want to accept it! "he screamed.

"I'm telling you the truth, Sir!" Lucas shouted back as his anger started to grow.

Cody recognized the signs and cautioned Lucas, but it was too late and Lucas blew up completely at the doctor's next statement

"You're lying?"

"I'm not lying!" Lucas shouted. "If you think Timmy has been cured, you're a fool!"

"Lucas!" snapped Ruth, "remember who you are and who you are addressing."

"Ma'am, all Doctor de Boer wants is for someone to agree with him. Timmy is not cured and he is too full of himself to admit it! The killer is still there and if he is released, he'll kill again."

"Lucas, that's enough!" Ruth said to him sharply.

Lucas went over to Cody and assumed his position, saying nothing more.

"Doctor de Boer, I apologize for my Slave's behavior, but you would be wise to consider what he told you," said Ruth.

"Get out of here! You're all trying to discredit me," fumed the doctor.

Ruth grabbed both boys and hurried them out to the car. Both Cody and Lucas were shaking with anger.

On the way home, she spoke to Lucas. "How could you behave so badly? You know you will be punished. How could you?"

"I know Ma'am. I embarrassed you and Master both and I am sorry. You are right; I should be punished."

"I'll take care of it, Mom," Cody told her.

In truth, Ruth was not really angry with Lucas. She was angry with herself for getting the family involved in this mess.

After supper, Cody sent Lucas to his room, telling him to strip and prepare to be punished, and went to see his Dad. Lucas did as his Master had instructed without complaint. "Dad, how can I punish Lucas for telling the truth?" he asked plaintively.

"You're not punishing him for telling the truth," replied John. "You are punishing him for the way he said it. There's a big difference. Even if he had been a free boy, calling the doctor a fool would not be acceptable."

"Dad," Cody hesitated. "When will we free Lucas?"

"He's almost ready, Son. Just be patient a little longer. He just needs to control that tongue of his a bit more. His punishment tonight may help him do that. I know it's tough; you love him so much! But you both can learn from today."

"Your Mom thinks the whole thing was a failure and she blames herself."

"But he was saved from the gallows, Dad. Maybe that's all we can hope for. He'll be a Class Three Salve, won't he? At least he'll be alive."

"I hope so, Cody. I hope so. Now, go and give Lucas what he needs. Paddle him thoroughly and then love him to death."

"Thanks, Dad. I knew you would understand."

Cody found Lucas, naked and kneeling with his forehead touching the floor. "Lucas, please get up and stand in front of me," he said as he sat on the chair Lucas had pulled out.

"You know I have to punish you, don't you"

"Yes, Master I…."

"Lucas," Cody interrupted him, his voice quavering, "don't make it any harder for me than it already is. It's me! Cody! Remember! And you were very brave this afternoon."

"But, Cody, I embarrassed you and Ma'am in front of that awful Doctor. I didn't keep my cool and I deserve to be punished. You have never punished me unfairly. I know you love me and will give me the punishment I should have. I'm ready and I trust you." And he lay across Cody's lap and prepared to receive his spanking.

Cody began, sparing him not a bit. By the tenth and final stroke, Lucas's ass was bright red and both of them were crying. Taking Lucas in his arms, he pulled him down on the bed. "Oh, Lucas! I love you so! Dad says your freedom is coming soon. I just wish it could be today. I just find it so hard to be a good Master to you."

"Cody, you have always been a wonderful Master to me! Please, don't ever think otherwise. You're strong and loving. You've taught me how to be a real person and what love and family are all about."

"When you have to punish me, it's not the fire in my ass that hurts most, although that's bad enough. It's knowing that I have let you down; that's what really hurts. I need to learn from you and serve you better before I can even think about being free."

"I will wait patiently for freedom, trusting you and knowing that you love me without exception and that is all that's important. Even if freedom never came, I would be happy all my life serving you. You are my life! How could I ever want any more?"

Cody simply shed his clothes, crawled in beside Lucas and they comforted each other until they fell asleep.

The next morning, Cody and Lucas went to Ruth.

Lucas knelt before her. "Ma'am, I want to say how sorry I am for the way I behaved yesterday. Cody punished me, just as I deserved, but I am so very sad I didn't behave as I should have. I just must learn to control my tongue."

"Lucas, come to me." Replied Ruth, taking him into her arms. "The fault is mine, Lucas. I should never have subjected you to whole thing. I just wanted to save Timmy from a horrible death on the gallows and I wasn't thinking very clearly. Can you forgive me for being a failure, this time?

"But you did save him, Ma'am. Sir thinks he will be a slave for life, but at least he'll be alive. No, you didn't fail at all."

"Oh, Lucas. You are certainly the child of my heart!"

Lucas wasn't sure what she meant, but he filed it away for the future.

They were all astounded and absolutely horrified a week later when the court vacated Timmy's sentence and made him a Class Two Slave, under Dr. de Boer's supervision. They all feared a killer had been released into their midst. But, at least, the whole sordid mess was over.

But, it wasn't.

John rushed home early one afternoon to tell them, "Timmy's dead. He took his own life. Rupert Gann came to see me and gave me the note he left. It's addressed to you, Lucas." And he handed him the envelope.

Lucas nervously opened the envelope, took out the note and read it. When he was finished, he handed it to Cody and broke down completely. Cody read it to the rest of the family.

Lucas,

Well, I fooled them all, didn't I? All except you. You knew right away that I wasn't cured. It was still the same me, hungry to kill again. Just better at acting the part of a normal boy.

By the time you read this, I will be in the next world. I'm sorry. But I can't live a lie any longer. I hope you can forgive me. You showed me how to be a good person, but I knew that if I lived, I would kill someone again.

You and your Mistress are the only persons who ever really cared about me. My parents didn't. They were always telling me how lucky I was to be adopted by them.

I'm truly sorry for what I did to my sisters. Even though they called me names and told me I was not their real brother. They didn't deserve what I did to them.

Maybe, in the next world, I will be forgiven for being such a terrible person. Maybe you and I can be friends, there.

Goodbye and thank you,
Timmy

It was quite a while before any of them spoke,

"He really wasn't all bad after all, was he Ma'am?" Lucas finally managed.

"No, Lucas, he wasn't. He was a child of God; imperfect, damaged, hurting. But still a child of God. Rest in peace, Timmy."

"We need to go on with our lives," John consoled her. "There are other kids who will need our help."

But the next day, a horrendous accident would change all their lives forever!

The family would have preferred a simple service, but a Dame of the Empire… the first in many years… must be 'properly' laid to rest.

The service was held in the Great Cathedral and it was jammed with mourners from all walks of life. John marveled that so many people had been touched by Ruth's life.

Prince Harry, representing the King, sat in the front row with the family: John, Cody, Lucas, Donnie, and Ronnie. The Bartons were next to them in that place of honor, leaving the Prime Minister and his cabinet grumbling to themselves in the second row.

Anna had slipped in and sat in one of the back rows. She had come to mourn her true mother, but left following the service to shield the family from unnecessary speculation. If anyone had asked, she was a long-lost niece.

The Celebrant was a young Curate, specially chosen by the Archbishop.

"Dear friends and neighbors, we are come together this day to celebrate the life of Ruth Diane Mott Davidson, Dame of the British Empire. And I use the term 'celebrate' in its fullest meaning. For, the very last thing this great and wonderful friend would wish is for you to mourn her passing. Instead, she would wish for all of you to celebrate the extraordinary times we have all shared with her."

"Dame Ruth was not a religious person in the usual sense of the word. But she believed passionately, as does Our Lord, that every child… rich or poor, slave or free… should have a loving family that encourages that child to grow to his fullest potential. And she and Sir John dedicated their lives to assisting the most downtrodden of our fellow human beings, young slave children, who, through no fault of their own, often find themselves in degrading and painful circumstance, a blot on the greatness of our empire."

"She and Sir John raised two fine sons, one of whom came to them as a slave. And I tell you truly, two finer examples of the best of young manhood in our Empire would be impossible to find.

They, in turn, are raising two young teens, who, had it not been for their intervention, their love and devotion, would have surely suffered the indignity of any unjust life-long slavery."

"There are not a few of you in this gathering today, who would not stand here as free citizens except for the support and encouragement she and Sir John gave your families."

"I, myself, was raised in a desperately poor family, a young slave with two younger free sisters. I loved my master and mistress and my sisters and I begged them to sell me so they would have enough to survive. But Dame Ruth intervened, with both material support and encouragement, so that my parents could free me and see me educated so I could stand before you today as a Minister of the Gospel." "If I might paraphrase the words of the great Sir Edward Kennedy, 'Some people see things as they are and ask 'Why?' Ruth Davidson dreamed of things that never were, and said, 'Why not?'"

"No, Ruth Davidson was not a practicing member of our faith. But I believe, with all my being, that when she made the journey to that far-off land to which we all aspire, the Lord of All Life was waiting to greet her; 'Well done, good and faithful servant!"

"In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen!"

And the choir and organ burst forth with the music of the great Beethoven masterpiece, The Ode to Joy.

The reception following the service was held in the Convention Center, and it was thronged.

Prince Harry took John in tow and the Twins went off with David and Tommy, leaving Cody and Lucas to fend for themselves. So many people wanted to greet them, they soon split up.

Cody had just finished a conversation with the Curate, thanking him for his kind words about his Mom during the service, when he heard someone call his name.

Turning toward the sound, he saw two tall, slim young men.

"Alexander! You came! And Dakota! Oh Mom would be so pleased that you came!" And the three of them embraced tenderly.

"Yes, we just got in from Budapest last evening," said Alexander.

"Ma'am wasn't sure I should come," added Dakota, his eyes starting to tear up, "but I insisted. Ma'am Ruth always treated me like I was a real person and not just a slave. Where is Lucas Sir?"

"He's somewhere in the crowd," replied Cody.

"Why don't you go and find him, Dakota," said his Master. "You may speak to anyone and don't need to go to your position. Just don't be gone too long."

"Oh, thank you Master!" And he hurried off.

"How have you been, Alexander," inquired Cody.

"Well, I think you know that Annie and I were married last summer while you were in Russia."

"Yes, we would have been there. But it was a bit too far to travel."

"You and Lucas and your boys had quite an adventure, didn't you? We've watched the BBC Television presentation and it is truly awesome."

"Thanks, Alexander. You are right; it was an adventure I wouldn't have traded for anything."

"Well, Annie is carrying twin boys."

"That's great! said Cody.

"We'd like your permission to name them Cody and Lucas."

"Permission! Oh, Alexander! What an honor."

"And, we'll be moving to the East Coast as soon as they are born. The Party has offered me a spot in the Carolinas, assisting an MP who is about ready to retire."

"You'll do well in politics, Alexander. "You and Lucas can be friendly adversaries. He plans to stand for election in Colorado Springs next term."

"And, how about your plans?" asked Alexander.

"I've been accepted for Space Corps training, but I'll delay my enrollment until the Twins finish High School."

"You and Lucas have always been so close. How will you ever survive apart?"

"Well, Lucas and the Twins and I have a unique gift. No matter how far apart we may be physically, it's as if we're right there together. Mom and Dad had the same gift and we seem to have inherited it."

"Wow! That is amazing!"

Lucas had just finished greeting the French ambassador, when he saw a vaguely familiar figure approaching.

"Dakota!" he shouted, sweeping the young man into his arms.

"Hello, Lucas Sir," replied a bemused Dakota.

"How great of you to come! I'm so glad Alexander let you."

"I insisted! I just had to come and say goodbye to Auntie Ruth. She always treated me like I was a real person and not just a slave," explained Dakota. He tried to avoid breaking down, but was not successful.

"You were never 'just a slave', Dakota. You were always a friend. A boy we all loved with all our hearts. I still have that wonderful shirt you designed for the four of us."

"But why did she have to die?" sobbed Dakota on Lucas's shoulder. "She was such a great, loving person who accepted me and loved me without any reservations, even though I was a slave."

"Well, that time will come to each of us. I hope you can find comfort knowing she is in a better place, free from pain, and waiting for us all when our time comes."

He paused a minute, looking Dakota up and down. "I must say, you look positively dashing, today."

"Well, I don't know about that, but do you realize this is the first time I've worn shoes since I was five years old? I can't wait to get them off."

"Dakota, are you happy with life?" Lucas asked him seriously.

"Oh yes, Lucas Sir. I love my Master and he loves me. I have a warm and caring family and I've even learned how to use a telephone." Lucas suppressed a giggle with difficulty. "And I understand," Dakota continued, "I'll soon have two little boys to take care of and that thought terrifies me."

"You'll do fine," Lucas encouraged him. "You have love and compassion in abundance, just what young children need."

"Thank you, Lucas Sir. I hope so. Well, I'd better get back to Master. He tends to get into mischief if I stay away too long." Dakota said with a twinkle in his eye.

The two of them hugged and Lucas watched his friend depart with tears in his eyes.

"Who was that," asked a familiar voice coming up behind him.

Lucas turned to see Sue Beckham standing there.

"Hi, Sue. Thank you for coming. That was Dakota, Alexander's slave."

"He's still a slave?" squeaked Sue. "How perfectly awful"

"I used to think that, too," admitted Lucas. "But consider; he's supremely happy serving Alexander. He knows exactly what his lot in life is. He has a warm, loving family. He never has to worry where his next meal is coming from. If he should ever fall sick, he'll be cared for lovingly. And now he'll be helping to raise Alexander's sons. What more could he want?"

"I see your point," replied Sue, "but it's hard for me not to feel sorry for him."

"Don't. That's the last thing he would want. I know, I had trouble getting over that, too. Especially when I was first freed."

"You know, Lucas, I had a real crush on you at one time. But it didn't take me long to find out I had lost out to Cody. I kept a picture from that time you and he were tied naked to the chairs in the prison courtyard. I used to get my rocks off drooling over it."

"I guess I should be flattered. No, wait, I am flattered. I can honestly say that if I had been looking for a girl to share my life, you would have been first on my list. You've always been a true friend. By the way, I understand you have a new little sister."

"Yes, Mom freed Elsa about year ago. I love her to death, but sometimes I'm not sure whether to strangle her or not. She is SO boy crazy."

"Well, I guess our Twins are safe enough. They're a bit young for her," Lucas chuckled.

"Don't kid yourself. She likes 'younger men' she says."

"Which twin do you think she would choose, Ronnie or Donnie?"

"Both of them!"

Chapter Fifteen

Eric's Story

Sulking in the back seat of the Bentley, Eric thought to himself, "I guess he really means it this time. Military School! Yuk!"

Of course, he knew he had no one to blame but himself. Having been thrown out of the public schools and three private schools… all because of his destructive behavior… he wasn't exactly an innocent. "I guess," he thought, "setting off a cherry-bomb underneath the priest's lector in chapel was a bit over the top. But can't a guy have any fun anymore?"

He went back to his computer games. They were the only things that kept him from going completely ape.

"Get your head out of that awful game and look at this gorgeous scenery," admonished his mother from the front seat where she sat cradling his younger sister.

"Yes Mother," he replied, his voice full of twelve-year-old attitude. And kept right on immersing himself in his Gameboy. He really had doubted his father would ever have carried out his threat. Guess he was wrong.

His father was an independent entrepreneur. He stole expensive cars for a living and sold them to well-heeled clients. The car they were riding in was his latest acquisition.

The car slowed to a stop at a railroad crossing. The northbound freight train seemed to go on forever. They were already late for their appointment with the admissions officer and still had a ways to go.

His father was fuming as the last freight car rattled by and immediately started across the tracks, completely oblivious to the southbound express that had been hidden by the freight and was now bearing down on them at seventy-five miles per hour [120 km/h].

At his mother's scream, Eric, at last, looked up to see the engine of the express just before it struck the car broadside.

The express dragged the burning car fully two miles [3 km] before the engineer could bring his train to an emergency halt. Flames began to engulf his cab, but he had the presence of mind to run back to his second engine, decouple it and back the train away out of danger before the diesel tanks on his original engine erupted sending flames and smoke hundreds of feet in the air. There was no question of anyone in the car being alive; it was a molten slagheap by this time.

By some miracle, Eric had been thrown clear of the Bentley by the initial impact and deposited… scraped, bruised and unconscious… in the weeds between the tracks. In fact, it was several hours before a trainman, who was checking the tracks to assure there was no damage, discovered him there. The express passengers had all been evacuated by bus and the wrecking crew was busy clearing what was left of the car and head engine.

At first, they didn't connect him to the wrecked car, believing him to be a runaway who had been hit by the freight and had fallen between the tracks. He had no identification on him although several pieces of his tattered clothes were marked with tags that read 'Eric'.

The darkness slowly began to recede as the boy struggled back to life. He was in some sort of hospital. He tried moving his arms and legs and discovered one leg was shackled to the bed with a metal cuff and chain. He was full of scrapes and bruises and had a roaring headache.

Then, panic set in. He couldn't remember who he was or how he got there. In fact, he couldn't remember anything at all about his life.

"Hello Eric'," a voice said and resolved itself into an attendant or guard of some sort. "It's about time you woke up."

"Why did you call me Eric?" he asked.

"Because that's what was on some of your clothes," the guard answered. "Actually, we don't really know who you are; you're not in the DNA registry. So, you're Eric."

Eric suddenly was aware he was naked. "Where are my clothes," he asked.

"Oh, you won't be needing them any more. Slaves don't wear clothes until they're ready to be sold."

"Slave! Why am I a slave? What is this place?" he asked with rising panic.

"You had no identification and no one came forward to claim you, so the Judge assigned you Class Two status. This is the infirmary of the State Slave School For Boys. You've been here for a week."

It took a while for that to sink in.

"What's going to happen to me?"

"You'll be trained to be a slave and then sold just like all the other slaves here. Now, come on. Get up. The Director wants to see you."

The guard unshackled his leg and Eric's gingerly stood up, a bit shaky and painfully.

"Turn around and put your hands behind your back."

The guard snapped a set of handcuffs on his wrists and led him out of the infirmary and down a hall, stopping at a door marked 'DIRECTOR' where he knocked.

"Come in."

The guard led Eric into the room and stood him in front of a large desk, behind which sat a middle-aged man with graying hair. "This is Eric, sir," reported the guard. "He's finally conscious."

"Thank you. You may leave us." The guard exited.

"Stand up straight, Eric. Hmm! You look sturdy enough and those scrapes and bruises will heal in short order."

"Sir, I'm not a slave, I'm a free boy, I think. I'm…"

"You may speak only when you have permission," the Director cut him off.

"You're a little older than our other slave-trainees, so we'll need to move you along before you become too old to sell. If you apply yourself and do well, we'll try to find you a good master. You are to obey all the guards and teachers without exception. If you do not, you will be punished."

"Now, since you spoke without permission, I will punish you. Lean over and grab your ankles."

Eric somehow knew that drill. He did as he was told.

There was a swish and a bolt of fire exploded across his ass.

"Now you will behave, won't you?"

Eric glared at the Director, but said nothing.

"Guard!" The guard entered. "Feed him and take him to his bunk. He'll start regular training tomorrow."

The guard took Eric to a dormitory and deposited him on one of the bunks. He brought the boy a bowl of unappetizing slave porridge and told him to eat it. "The rest of the slaves will be back shortly. You may talk to each other… and do other things. When the lights go out, you are to go to bed. Is everything clear?"

Eric nodded and the guard left him sitting gingerly on his bunk. His head was still pounding and he just couldn't bring himself to eat the revolting stuff in the bowl.

He began to cry. "How had he gotten into this? What did he do to deserve this? They think they're going to make me a slave, do they? Well, I'll teach them a thing or two. I will NOT be a slave," he told himself.

And the next several weeks were sheer hell for Eric and the staff.

He was the oldest and biggest boy in the school, as the slaves-in-training were mostly eight to ten-year-olds. He got along well with the other boys and was soon acknowledged the leader of the pack. And he led them into all sorts of misbehavior.

By the time three weeks had passed, his ass and the tops of his legs were a mass of crisscrossing welts, but he was as defiant as ever.

He had just been punished again with forty strokes of the cane with the usual result. They now had to tie him to the punishment bench where he screamed and cried with each stroke. The guard administering the punishment was reduced to tears.

But Eric absolutely refused to behave. He was sure they would just give up and turn him loose.

Wrong!

He was shackled hand and foot, gagged and hauled before the director and made to stand there completely helpless.

"Eric," began the Director, "you have evidently decided you can beat us. You can't. You are a slave and you will begin acting like one. I will give you one more chance. As a Class Two Slave, you might some day be free. But if you screw up again, I will petition the court to assign you to Class Three and you will be a slave for life. You will be sold to one of the mines and will have a short, painful life in the mine pits. The choice is yours."

The thought that he might be made a slave for life terrified Eric. That night in bed, he made some decisions. "This isn't working," he said to himself. "I thought I could beat them. I don't want to be a slave in a mine all my life," he wept. "Maybe I'll try it their way."

He became a model student, much to the amazement of the staff, nervously waiting for the other shoe to drop. In truth, Slave School wasn't so bad after all. The teachers were mostly capable and he began to learn what life could be like if he was sold to a good master.

At night, he was still the leader and he and his cronies often made life miserable for the younger boys. He didn't understand why the staff never interfered. He was starting into puberty and now had a whole score of willing and unwilling sexual victims.

There was a new boy at the school. They said he was eight, but he looked more like a four or five-year-old. He managed to hide for a while, but one night Eric and two of his pals trapped him in a corner. The two boys were going to rape him while Eric watched. Then he would have his turn at the little guy's ass.

As he watched his friend advance on the terrified child, he looked right into the child's eyes.

In a blinding flash, Eric suddenly knew who he was, how his parents and little sister had been killed and that he was now alone in the world. His family was gone. His life, that might have been, was gone. Just like the little guy.

Something about this tiny boy pulled at him and he melted.

"Stop!" he commanded his cohorts. "Don't touch him. Ever! You can have all the rest, but he's mine." They obeyed without question… they had learned the hard way not to cross him… and they went off to find other victims leaving Eric alone with the tiny boy.

He took the little boy into his arms and held him until he stopped crying and shaking. "Don't worry, Little One, I'll protect you." For the life of him he couldn't figure out why he was doing this. For the first time since his family died… perhaps, for the first time in his life… he felt love and compassion for someone. And his headache was gone!

"Would you like to sleep with me, Little One? He asked.

The boy nodded and Eric pulled him onto his bunk, wrapped his arms around him and the two of them fell asleep.

They became inseparable. They went to class together. They ate together. They slept together. Some of the other boys sniggered that 'Little One' was Eric's boyfriend. A few bloody noses and split lips after dark stopped those rumors.

But, the little guy, was, in fact, his friend whom he comforted, and protected. He soon learned that Little One had never gone to school, although he could read. None of the stories, Eric had heard from his teachers, however.

Little One was doing phenomenally in the Slave School and he began to grow physically like a weed. Soon, he wouldn't need Erich to protect him; he was getting big enough to look out for himself.

It became rather crowded in their bed, but Eric wouldn't hear of him moving back to his own bunk at night. He loved the feel of the boy's naked skin pressed against him and, for the first time in their young lives, both felt warm and safe. They usually slept with Eric spooned behind Little One. Now if he just could stop poking him with that hard thing that always seemed to appear as soon as they slid into bed together.

One important aspect of their training in the School was learning about their budding sexuality. Many Masters required their Slaves to satisfy their sexual appetites and a Slave had better be prepared to do this. The 'homework' on this topic was practiced every night. Little One participated, but without a great deal of enthusiasm.

He did make an effort to please Eric sexually, but Eric could tell he didn't really like being stroked and fondled, in return. So, he mostly cuddled and hugged the little guy; he seemed to like that.

Thus, while the other boys were learning about sucking and fucking, the two of them lay together and Eric worked on a different aspect of Little One's education. He told him stories of kings and princes and knights and heroes that Eric had heard from his elementary school teachers. Little One listened with rapture, but he never smiled.

Eric had been at the School for about nine months, when he was pulled out of class one morning, handed a pair of skimpy shorts and was told to put them on and go to the director's office. He knew that a Slave at the School never wore shorts unless he was about to be sold.

He entered the Director's office with trepidation. In addition to the Director, there was a woman.

"This is Eric," the Director told her. "He's almost thirteen and I think he might fill your need for an older slave."

She walked around the trembling boy, looking him over and apparently was satisfied with what she saw. "I'd like to see his boy parts," she told the director.

"You heard her, Eric. Drop the shorts."

Eric hesitated for a second. He was used to being naked around the other boys and the staff, but in front of a woman?

"Now!" said the Director and Eric complied without further delay, turning bright red in the process. And, to make it worse, his prick immediately sprang to life.

"Well, aren't you the horn-dog," the woman snickered as she fondled his cock and balls. He gasped and shook at her touch. "I think we might have some fun together." Turning to the director, she said, "I'll take him. Have him delivered to my shop."

The Director showed her out and returned to Eric who was still standing with his shorts still about his ankles. "Her name is Angie Dickinson and she owns a very high-class shop called 'Slaves Plus'. She is your new Mistress. See that you behave yourself. If you don't and she brings you back, you'll go right to the mines," he admonished the boy.

Eric gulped!

They didn't even allow him time to say goodbye to Little One. He was stripped again, shackled hands and feet, gagged, blindfolded and placed in a transfer cage and hauled off to 'SLAVES PLUS'.

Angie unpacked him at once and removed his gag, blindfold and shackles. "I expect you to do exactly as you are told," she instructed him, "and if you don't, here's what will happen." And she touched him with a small rod she was carrying.

Eric screamed and fell to the floor, rolling around and finally ending up in a fetal position. He had never felt such pain. But his cock was hard again!

"Oh get up and stop being such a baby. That was the lowest setting. Hmmm! Looks like you enjoy pain," she said, observing his hardon.

"Oh no Mistress! Please don't use that thing on me again. I'll be good, I promise." And he knelt in front of her as he had been taught at school.

She reached down and tipped his head up so he was looking directly at her. "Your job is to help me by demonstrating some of the clothing and other things I sell. If you do well, you will have your own room to sleep in and you'll be adequately fed and cared for. If you don't, well…" and she waved the rod at him.

He began to shake violently and sob like a baby.

"Stand up, Eric." And she took him into her arms, marveling how wonderfully soft and warm his skin felt. "I'm not a monster. I hope we will be friends and can have a pleasant life together."

"Oh yes, Mistress." Perhaps, just perhaps, he could learn to like this woman.

For the first few days, she had him model some of the clothes she offered. When he did well at that, she gradually introduced him so some light restraint devices, assorted gags and chastity devices. He seemed to thrive on that, even though they were often uncomfortable and, some, even painful.

She continued to 'rent' three younger boys and used them to demonstrate more aggressive restraints and punishment items. They often cried and screamed as she put their gear on them. Indeed, she had several clients who came by early just to hear them, before they were gagged. At the end of the day, they were returned to their owners, usually emotionally and physically exhausted.

She sensed Eric was uncomfortable around them, so she decided to test his endurance. By this time, he, too, was used to being shackled, gagged and punished. She fastened all three of the 'rent boys' to punishment benches and had Eric demonstrate a new line of paddles, whips and tawses on their upturned asses. Fastening a cock-cage around his boy parts, she told him she wanted to see a welt every time he struck or she would use the rod on him.

He did not disappoint her, although she could tell he was upset from all the crying and screaming. He was in tears from start to finish.

That night, after supper, he asked, "Mistress, will you let me take care of the 'rent boys'?" She had sensed he had a way with younger boys, so she agreed.

The next morning, he took charge and began to place them in or on the devices she specified. Although fearful at first, they soon realized he tried to do so as gently as possible, causing as little pain as possible. The crying and screaming all but subsided, much to the complaint of Angie's early morning clients.

If there was a device that was particularly painful, he reserved it for himself. He could stand the pain much better than the younger boys. In fact, true to Angie's statement the first day, Eric began to relish the pain.

Gradually, he took over that part of Angie's operation, even selecting the wares to be demonstrated. He insisted, also, the shop close over lunch hour, so the rent boys could have a break and be fed an adequate lunch, convincing her this was good for the business in the long run. The slave owners reported their property was returned at day's end much less damaged and better behaved, too.

After the store closed for the day, they enjoyed dinner together before she took him to her bed.

She taught him all about sex and how to please a woman. Things that most grown men didn't know, let alone, a thirteen-year-old boy. She had one of her clients, a surgeon, perform a vasectomy so there would be no danger of her getting pregnant. He was a sexual gymnast, enjoying equally pumping his considerable load of boy cream into her vagina, asshole or mouth. And, talk about a talented tongue!

Afterward, they always slept soundly in each other's arms.

As a slave owner, Angie was required to educate her Class Two slave. She enrolled Eric in the government-supplied course and made sure he had adequate time for study. She even closed the store on Wednesdays and insisted he spend most of his 'day off' working on his studies and learning how to manage the store. Clearly, Angie had important things in mind for him.

The 'day off' was good for the rent boys, too. Now that they were being taken care of more humanely, they arrived at the store almost eager to learn what new tests awaited them. In fact, it became a game with them to see which of them could bear the most pain and discomfort without flinching.

Several months after his arrival, she began handling a new line of punishment devices. There was one, in particular, she wanted him to demonstrate but thought it might be too much for even him. He assured her he could handle it.

After placing his 'boys' in some light restraint cages, he set up the device in a prominent place. He stood on a stool and adjusted the overhead bar so it would be high enough, but before fastening his wrists to it, he placed a tight cuff around his cock and balls and hung a forty-pound [18 kg] weight on it.

The pain on his boy parts was instant and horrible and he almost gave up. But, he grit his teeth and continued. Fastening his wrists to the overhead bar, he kicked the stool out of the way and was left hanging with his feet about a foot [30 cm] off the floor.

The pain in his shoulders and arms soon equaled that in his balls and he began to drift in and out of consciousness.

Awaking one time, he survived a wave of pain and noticed a boy staring at him, white with shock. In his pain-wracked condition, it took him a few moments to recognize the boy.

"Hello, Little One. Yes, it's me." He groaned. "I belong to the store owner, Angie, now and she… unhhh… takes care of me. She treats me well and I… ahhhhahhha.… demonstrate her goods."

The boy began to cry softly.

"Don't cry for me, Little One! It… doesn't… hurt… very… much! Arrrgh! Your Mistress looks… kind. Is she?" Before the boy could answer, he passed out again and simply hung there, not moving.

When he next awoke, Little One and his Mistress were gone.

That evening she asked him, "Did you know that young slave who came in with his mistress today?"

"Yes Mistress," he replied. And he told her how he had befriended the boy at the Slave School.

"Well, it looks like he has a kind mistress, so you don't have to worry about him being able to take care of himself."

"No Mistress. You are the only one I love and care for, now."

That statement rocked her!

To be sure, she had found herself feeling more and more affection for Eric, but this was the first he had expressed his feeling toward her. He managed much of the store's business during the day. And, after hours, he was all hers to enjoy in any way she wanted. There was no question he craved pain as he always reserved the most painful devices for himself and seemed almost happy in them. But their nightly lovemaking was exciting and often tender.

On several occasions, she thought to herself, "Suppose I freed him. Then we could… No, he's just a slave. You're getting in too deep. Better be careful."

But, as the months went on, she was more and more attracted to him. She had even introduced pain and humiliation to their nightly romps and he lapped it up like a starved dog. It was clear he would do anything to make her happy, regardless of the pain or even danger involved.

One night, shortly after he turned fourteen, as they lay together after making serious love, she asked him a question. "Eric, do you ever think about being free?"

"Yes Mistress," he admitted reluctantly. "But I would be happy being a slave all my life," he added hastily, "as long as I can be with you. I know you love me and you understand my need for pain."

"My parents never understood why I always misbehaved. It was so they would punish me. I got lots of that in school, too. But you knew that from the first day and you torture me and give me the pain I need."

Angie was shocked and astounded at this confession. He really was a pain pig.

"If I was free, I would have to leave you!" he began to sob.

"Not necessarily," she assured him. "We could be a couple."

He gasped!

"Oh Mistress, that… that… that…" he stammered, tears running down his cheeks. He simply couldn't believe what she had just offered him!

"Well, it wouldn't be for a few years yet. But, think about it, Eric. Think if that is what you really want. Yes, I love you… more than I have ever loved another person. And I know you really love me."

"Oh Mistress! Oh Mistress! Oh Mistress!" was all he could say.

SLAVES PLUS thrived. The enthusiastic behavior of the rent boys and Eric as they demonstrated the restraints and punishment devices impressed her customers. The prevailing mood was that slaves generally should not be treated too kindly; they needed discipline and punishment. So, it became rather fashionable for her customers to bring their slaves to the shop to try out some of the devices she offered.

Behind the main display area were the 'Fitting Rooms', soundproof enclosures where customers could have their slaves fitted with the restraint or discipline devices of their choice and have them customized for special effects. If a customer wanted to try out a device or two on his slave, that also was permitted. During the 'fitting' process, Eric and the rent boys assisted the slave owner. The cries and screams of their victims was a good measure of how effective the devices were. The rent boys made no effort to be gentle with the young slaves and enjoyed torturing them.

Eric didn't really like this arrangement. He was sad the rent boys derived so much pleasure from torturing their peers. But, what else could he expect; that was part of the pain he bore. Many of these slaves reminded him of 'Little One', but he grimaced and went doggedly on.

Angie observed him with excitement. He would do anything she wanted, no matter how distasteful or painful. And still loved her deeply after it was over. Several times she found herself thinking, "Would he give his life to please her?"

That thought frightened her.

Shortly before Eric's fifteenth birthday, a new high-tech company contacted her. They had developed a device that simulated the most diabolical punishment ever invented by humans… the ancient Roman execution by crucifixion.

At first, she was inclined to ignore their offer to demonstrate the device. There are limits, after all. But Eric was intrigued and she could tell he wanted to try the device very badly. Sort of an ultimate test of his courage and his love for her. His teen macho genes were working on overdrive.

So, she reluctantly agreed.

Late one Saturday afternoon, the salesman arrived and he and Eric set up the device in one of the Fitting Rooms.

The centerpiece was a traditionally shaped cross, made of wood with metal fittings and mounted on a base with a hydraulic system that allowed it to be laid flat on the floor. Attached to it by a cable was a control console.

"From the best available records," explained the salesman, "victims of crucifixion died of asphyxiation. Hanging by their arms with the body unsupported caused their shoulders to press inward on the lungs. As their shoulders weakened, the lungs collapsed, leading to a slow death. The victim could stave off this condition only by raising his entire body using his arms. But, loss of blood, shock and exhaustion soon rendered this impossible."

"There are accounts where the victim's body was partially supported to prolong the agony. There are accounts of especially strong persons hanging on the cross for two or three days. Once the support was removed… often by breaking the victim's legs… death came rather quickly."

Angie looked over to where Eric was standing. He seemed transfixed, almost mesmerized.

"Our device," continued the salesman, "carefully measures the vital signs of the victim and supports the body enough to prevent lung compression, without reducing the pain. The victim is strapped to the cross, so there is no loss of blood, although electrodes at the wrists and ankles stimulate the nerve endings so the victim actually feels as if he has been pierced by nails. If they are blindfolded, they can't tell the difference."

By this time Angie was feeling rather sick and was about to send the salesman and his device away.

But Eric, kneeling before her with his forehead on the floor, implored her, "Mistress, please let me try it. Let me see if this machine can defeat me."

"Oh, Eric. I don't know."

"He's just a slave, isn't he?" interrupted the salesman. Then, seeing the glare on Angie's face, he backtracked, "Yes, of course. Whatever you feel is appropriate."

"Please!" begged Eric.

Angie knew she could not refuse him.

With the 'cross' flat on the floor, Eric's wrists were strapped to the crossbar with his arms and shoulders painfully stretched. His ankles were fastened to a small adjustable platform on the upright that would automatically adjust and support the weight of his body. A strap around his waist contained a sensor that would signal the control if his legs became too weak and gently lower him to the floor again.

"I'm going to turn the power on," said the salesman.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" a high-pitched scream was torn from Eric's throat as the electrodes engaged and the hydraulics lifted the cross to its upright position.

"Oh, Mistress! It really does feel like I have spikes through my wrists and feet!" he bawled. "It HURTS!"

"Turn it off!" screeched Angie to the salesman.

"No! Wait! Please, Mistress. It's OK. I can take it. You've taught me how to be strong! Don't turn it off, please. Let me hang here and feel this."

Angie was white with shock. She gazed up at her 'boy' as he hung from the cross, his body covered with sweat. His cock was so hard, it pointed to the ceiling.

"He seems to be enjoying this," observed the salesman. "I wonder how he would feel after an hour or two."

Angie began to have serious doubts about the whole thing, but Eric seemed excited, almost reveling in the new pain he was feeling.

"Why don't we go out for a bite to eat?" suggested the salesman.

"No! I wouldn't think of leaving him like this!"

"Well, the best test would be after he has been there for an hour or two", he replied. I've set the control to provide a good bit of support; he should be quite safe."

Much against her better judgment and only after repeated pleading by Eric, she allowed herself to be persuaded. Turning out the light, she and the salesman left.

Eric hung on the cross in agony. He could feel the little platform adjust whenever he began to have trouble breathing. Beyond that, there was the PAIN! The ever-exquisite pain in his arms, shoulders wrists and feet. Dozens of orgasms wracked his body.

It was several hours until a drunken Angie returned. The salesman left her on her bed, drugged to the nines. "Well, she'll be out 'til morning," he muttered. "I won't get into her pants," he lamented.

He peered in at the hanging boy, chuckled evilly, and left.

Truthfully, Eric was doing fine. By adjusting his breathing himself, he managed to trick the device to giving him much more support, so his arms and shoulders were really not bearing much weight at all. The neural stimulation he simply banished to the back of his mind. "Yesss! I've beat it!" he exalted.

Then, disaster struck and his euphoria evaporated.

An electrical storm knocked out power for a few minutes. When it came back on, the device did not restart.

At first Eric was annoyed. The neural stimulation was off, but the platform no longer supported his weight, either. Now he truly was hanging by his outstretched wrists.

Annoyance gave way to concern and then to panic. He could pull himself up a little to relieve the pressure on his shoulders, but he wasn't sure how long he could keep that up. Screaming for Angie brought no help; the soundproofing was too good.

An hour of struggle left him exhausted. Breathing was getting increasingly difficult.

And he knew he was going to die!

A wave of sorrow overtook him. "She promised me the greatest gift and now I'm going to spoil it for her," he thought.

The minutes ticked by and he gasped. He simply couldn't get another breath.

His last cogent thought was, "Oh Mistress! Please forgive me! I love you!"

And the blackness enveloped him.

It was barely light and something thrust Angie out of her drugged and drunken stupor. Suddenly, she remembered Eric on the cross and dashed naked into the fitting room. What she saw there, brought her to her knees.

Jumping up, she quickly unfastened Eric from the cross and sank to the floor again with his cold, lifeless body in her arms. She tried CPR, but to no avail. Eric was well and truly dead.

Shock at what she had allowed to happen set in. She simply sat there for hours with his body in her arms and keened over and over again, "Oh Eric! My beautiful Eric! My only love! I killed you!"

The time-lock on the front door of the shop opened promptly at 8:00 am. Fifteen minutes later, three rent boys were delivered by their owners. They were puzzled and a little frightened when neither Eric nor Angie appeared. They could hear a strange noise coming from the back of the store and, finally, one of them got up enough courage to go and investigate.

He came running back in a few moments, crying and shrieking, "Mistress Angie is in there with Eric and he's dead!" They were all terrified at this turn of events and cowered in a corner out of sight.

A short time later, an early customer came in, discovered Angie and Eric and called the police.

They found her deep in shock and unable to communicate at all, so a doctor was summoned and he prescribed several types of sedatives and antidepressants. They, at least made her somewhat lucid again. By the time the police had finished asking questions and Eric's body was removed, she was able to function weakly again.

Her solicitor had been summoned and recommended she not open the shop again until after her hearing. She had been charged with unlawfully terminating a slave without court approval. Staggering into the store proper, she found the three terrified rent boys.

She summoned their owners and told them, "I won't be needing your slaves any longer. Please take them home and show them some compassion. They have certainly earned it here. Eric loved each of them. They are fine boys and will make good free citizens some day if you give them the chance." The astounded owners took their slaves and departed quickly.

Thru a client in high places, she arranged for Eric to be buried in The Children's Corner at the Cathedral, rather than being tossed into the landfill, the usual disposal for dead slaves. But she could not bring herself to attend the short, simple ceremony.

The next few days were a haze of drug-induced existence. But she made a fundamental decision about the business. Against the advice of her solicitor, she had workmen come in and remove and destroy every piece of restraint and punishment gear, including the infamous cross. That salesman, fearing he might be named as an accessory, had simply disappeared.

The day of her hearing, she sat in the courtroom, fortified with pills. Her barrister thought he could have the charge dismissed on a technicality, but she mostly ignored him.

"District four of the Queen's Bench is now in session," intoned the bailiff, "the Honorable Justice Hughes, Duke of Wesley, presiding. All rise!"

The Judge took his place and all were seated again. "Please call the docket," he instructed the bailiff.

"The Crown versus Angela Judith Dickinson, charged with Unlawfully Terminating a Class Two Slave Without Court Sanction, a Class 3 misdemeanor."

The Judge cleared his throat. "Before we proceed, I wish to make something perfectly clear."

"In my service on this bench, I must often hear cases dealing with young slaves. Enslaving them, punishing them and, occasionally, freeing them. I have come to believe that the statutes which refuse to recognize them as persons are wrong and should be changed. Nevertheless, the law is the law and I am sworn to uphold it as it is, not as I might wish it to be. Therefore, I will do so, in this, and all cases which come before me. You may proceed."

The Crown Barrister quickly outlined the facts of the case and entered Angie's brief, written 'confession'. "The Crown asks for a directed finding of guilty, Your Grace."

Angie's barrister rose and stated, "Your Grace, we believe my client is not guilty as charged but is only guilty of destruction of property. The requirement that court approval be sought before terminating a slave is against…"

"Peter, are you going to resurrect that tired argument again. The Law Lords have made it abundantly clear the Approval Statute supercedes the Property Laws and applies whether the termination is deliberate or not. I am weary of hearing that argument from you and will find you in contempt if you try to advance it again."

"Your Grace, I must object. It is…"

"Oh stop it, counselor," snapped Angie. "I killed the boy! Stop trying to pretty it up with your usual legal jargon. Your Grace, may I speak on my behalf?"

"I object!" fumed her barrister.

"Peter! Sit down and be quiet for a change. You might learn something. Ms. Dickinson, please come and stand before the bench and speak. Please be aware that whatever you say may be used in evidence."

Angie rose and walked over to the Judge.

With tears running down her cheeks, she began, "Your Grace, I killed the only person I have ever truly loved. Yes, it was negligence, but I killed him all the same. Yes, he was a slave. But he was a human being no mater what the law says. A beautiful, beautiful boy; brave, strong, compassionate. And the love of my life. I had planned to free him when he came of age." She broke down in tears and could not continue.

"Take your time, Angela," said the Judge, softly.

Pulling herself together, Angie continued, "We even discussed being married. But now he is gone… dead because of my carelessness. And I will grieve for him for the rest of my life."

The Judge thought for a few moments as he observed the weeping woman before him. "Ms. Dickinson, it is my opinion that you truly do understand the seriousness of what has happened and I will grieve with you for young Eric. But you have broken the law and I must rule on it."

"Angela Judith Dickinson, I find you guilty as charged and invoke the maximum penalty under the law, a fine of one hundred pounds. This court is adjourned. God save the Queen."

The courtroom quickly emptied until Angie sat by herself in the deepening twilight. "Oh Eric! My Eric! I loved you so… can you ever forgive me?"

The following week, fortified by her pills, she re-opened the shop with her revised line of goods. All of the racks and punishment gear and most of the restraints were gone. She did keep a few simple cuff and collar sets and her line of chastity devices.

She reasoned the chastity devices were certainly a more humane way of controlling the sexual life of slave boys… markedly less cruel than the usual alternative, castration. Her belief was affirmed some months later when Alexander Brooks brought his slave, Dakota, in and had him fitted. Dakota was starting into puberty and needed to learn to control that part of his body if he was to continue in Alexander's service.

Eric's death and Angie's trial had precipitated a mini-crisis in the Davidson household, too.

Lucas had been with Cody for almost a year when one afternoon, Alexander and Dakota were over. The two older boys were playing a computer game and teasing the slaves by keeping them in their 'respect' poses and not releasing them so they could go off and play. Alexander causally mentioned that Angie's slave had died while he was demonstrating a new kind of rack and she had been fined. Lucas immediately broke his pose and ran crying from the room.

"Come back here!" yelled Cody. "I didn't give you permission to leave!" Angry that his Slave had acted so rudely in front of Alexander, he found him lying on his bed, bawling hysterically.

"Get up! Get up at once!" Even a dozen smacks across his bare ass failed to dislodge him. It was the only time Lucas ever completely defied Cody, and he realized he must be very careful how he handled it. Alexander bade a hasty goodbye and Cody went in search of his mother.

Ruth explained about Lucas's friend and seeing him being tortured at 'Slaves Plus'. "You must comfort him, but you must not permit open defiance. That's bad for him… and for you. You'll have to punish him, but do it gently and do it from love. Your father and I never said managing a slave would be easy. Particularly one you love so much." Cody blushed.

Returning to Lucas's room, Cody began to say how sorry he was that Lucas had lost… Lucas interrupted him. "Master, thank you for sharing my loss, but what I did was very bad. I defied you! I embarrassed you in front of Alexander and Dakota! I did not have permission to leave. I am very sorry I did those things. Please punish me hard so I won't do those things ever again."

Cody wore out his hand on Lucas's butt. Lucas cried, from sorrow for his unknown friend, and because he had let Cody down. The pain was horrible, but he could take that. When it was over, he asked permission to kiss Cody's feet. "I love you Master! Please forgive me for being so bad. I will always love you!"

From the very moment of Eric's death a war raged within Angie. One of depression, guilt and sadness against the determination to live as Eric would have liked her to… a memorial to his young life. Only massive doses of her pills allowed her to function.

But, finally, depression won out and one morning, her building super discovered Angie's body. She had overdosed on a mixture sleeping pills and antidepressants. She left a note addressed to no one in particular.

For 2 years, I have tried to be strong. Tried to forget! But, I can't. Eric is gone! My life is worthless without him.

Because of my carelessness and my ignorance, the only person I ever truly loved, is dead. I cannot live with the thought that I killed him just as surely as if I had strangled him with my own two hands.

Yes, he was a slave. But he was a human being, a wonderful boy who I loved with all my heart. And, I know he loved and trusted me. And, I betrayed him!

I had planned to free him in a few years so we could be a couple. But, I destroyed him and I don't want to live without him.

So, I will go to the next world and ask a merciful God to let me be with my Eric, my love, my everything! Even though I don't deserve it, perhaps both God and Eric will forgive me.

Angie

Danny's Story

The Old Man had purchased Jake when he was twelve years old. He was intelligent and a good worker. But, as he moved into puberty, Jake simply could not refrain from stimulating himself, despite the Old Man's threat to castrate him if he caught him doing it again.

But raging teen hormones overrode fear and he was caught once more, this time jerking himself off while playing with his prominent nipples.

Tying the terrified slave to an upright beam in the barn, the Old Man seized a gelding knife and reached for Jake's balls. He really hated to emasculate him… he had hoped to breed him… and, at the last minute, sliced off both his nipples, instead. His wife was left to inexpertly sew up the, by then, bleeding and unconscious slave boy.

Jake recovered but never again failed to follow his Master's orders.

"He'll soon be ready for my tool," cackled the old man. "Just a few more 'treatments' and he can start to earn his keep around here. By pleasing me!"

"Feed him and put him to bed and stop his infernal screaming," he instructed the slave. "Gag him if he won't quit. I'm going to watch the telly."

"Yes, Master. At once, Master," replied the young black man.

After the Old Man departed, Jake picked up the crying child and cuddled him. He rubbed healing salve on the boy's violated anus and generally soothed him until he subsided into sobs.

Tears flowed from Jake's eyes. It hadn't always been like this!

The Old Man loved the prize pigs he raised and his wife, in that order. She never interfered with his work or his treatment of Jake, so he indulged her much as he would have a blue-ribbon winning sow. In return she kept his house, prepared his food and generally made life comfortable for him.

Danny's father had abandoned his wife and infant and he had come to live with Aunt Bessie and the Old Man when he was two, his mother having been killed in a traffic accident. Bessie doted on him and showered him with love and affection. He was the child she always wished for… piglets are a poor substitute… and had never had.

Danny was a bright, engaging youngster; Jake adored him and even the Old Man felt some grudging affection toward him. So long as his sows continued to breed him champions, he might have put up with several Danny's if he thought that was the cause of his good fortune.

Everything was just fine at the little farm until Danny started second grade in the District Public School.

Midway through his school year, Danny brought the flu home. Nursing the little boy, Bessie contracted the bug herself.

Danny survived. Bessie did not!

His comfortable life shattered, the Old Man blamed Danny for his wife's death and vowed to make him pay for it. Jake was caught squarely in the middle.

Proceeding with his plan of retribution, the Old Man reported that Bessie and Danny had died. Now he was free to punish the boy however he pleased without having to answer to nosy school officials or other equally officious bureaucrats.

He put the kid to work and drove him and Jake unmercifully with tawse and whip. Both child and slave collapsed exhausted into each other's arms at the end of every day.

But, Danny's growing body demonstrated just one thing to the Old Man… he would soon have another, more attractive 'piglet' to bugger.

In a stroke of pure genius, the Old Man came home from a sale one day waving an official looking document… actually a bill-of-sale for pig. "There!" he told the terrified boy, "you're now a slave. This here paper is your Slave Registration and you'll be one for life. Now, by God, I'll work your fucking ass off."

Later that day, Jake was forced to hold the struggling and screaming boy as his uncle branded him on his right thigh. Afterward, the boy cried for hours in Jake's arms at the pain and humiliation visited upon his young body.

While Jake was allowed a single pair of shorts, Danny was always naked and barefoot. In addition to helping with the farm work, he was expected to keep house and cook for the Old Man… both he and Jake were fed slave gruel. But, it was never to the Old Man's satisfaction and a daily beating hanging from a convenient beam became the norm.

Once, when he had dropped a sack of feed and was leaning over the pick it up again, the Old Man swept his back with the flame from a blowtorch. His scream brought Jake running in time to see Danny drop unconscious to the barn floor. Despite everything Jake tried to do to treat the burn, Danny would have an inflamed scar for the rest of his life.

So, life went on. The sows continued to breed champions and the two slaves continued to suffer.

Until one day when Danny was fourteen and was helping to geld some young piglets. The knife slipped and he maimed one.

The Old Man flew into a towering rage.

Seizing Danny, he tied him in a standing spread-eagle between two poles. "Since you have ruined a pig and cost me a sale, how would you like to loose your cock and balls?"

Danny screamed in terror.

But, instead of gelding him, the Old Man picked up his favorite blowtorch, lit it and thrust it into Danny's groin. Destruction was complete; Danny's genitals were left a mass of blistered and charred flesh. Mercifully, Danny passed out.

For Jake, observing this ultimate cruelty, it was the final indignity. The Old Man's evil had finally breached the wall surrounding Jake's hidden humanity.

With a scream of rage, he grabbed a nearby axe and split the Old Man's skull in two!

The axe continued to fall on the Old Man's body until it was beyond recognition.

Then, sanity set in. "What have I done?" Jake asked himself.

His attention was suddenly drawn to the youth hanging between the two poles. With a strangled cry, he rushed over to the injured boy, gently removed him from his bonds and carried him into the house. Laying him on the Master's bed, he examined the extent of the mutilation done to the boy.

His penis was a charred, blackened stump; his balls a mass of oozing, blistered flesh. By the time he completed his examination, Jake's stomach was empty.

There was a spray they used on newly castrated shoats; maybe it could be used on humans as well. He doused Danny's groin area liberally and hoped for the best. He also found a few pain medications among the Old Man's stuff. He had given pigs enough injections; humans couldn't be that much harder.

But mostly he sat weeping, holding the boy's hand, through that day and night and into the next morning.

Danny regained consciousness about mid-day; the drugs Jake had given him kept the pain down, but he was only half conscious. "Oh Danny!" wailed Jake, "he hurt you so bad! And it's my fault! I should have killed him years ago!"

Danny only half understood him, but enough to know that the Old Man was dead. And Jake had killed him! And they both would hang for that crime!

For the next day or so, Jake tried to treat the boy's injuries as best he could. He also tried to get Danny to drink some water and soup, with little success. By the third morning it was clear Danny was getting worse.

That morning Jake told him, "Danny, the slaves at the market talk about a wonderful place called Pamona or something like that. They say slaves are treated well there and cured if they are sick. I'm going to take you there."

Danny roused himself, "Jake, I'm not going to get better. My balls are infected and I can't pee anymore. Don't waste your time. They're going to hang us anyway when they find out the Old Man is dead. You should try to get away."

"I won't abandon you, Danny. I will gladly take my punishment on the gallows, but I'm going to take you there first."

It was a fool's errand; even if he had had medical care from the first, it was virtually certain that Danny would die from his injuries.

But Jake didn't know that.

He rigged sort of a lounge chair on the back of the Old Man's motorcycle so that Danny could recline and keep his weight off his injured genitals.

Fortifying the boy with painkillers, Jake lifted him onto the cycle and they were off. Jake didn't know exactly where this Pamona was… somewhere north and east of them… but he was sure he would find it.

They had been gone barely an hour when the police… alerted by one of the Old Man's suppliers… broke in and found his body. The slaves were gone and must be the guilty ones, so they put out an immediate all-points warning.

Jake stuck mostly to forest trails at first, hoping to move along without being discovered. So far Danny was riding fairly well behind him and he was encouraged they just might make it.

The unnamed trail they were on crossed the Mountain Crest Trail and there, near a small lake, they discovered two boys, one about Danny's age and the other a bit younger. They soon found out they were Cody Davidson and his slave, Lucas.

"Well, what have we here? Nature boy and his faithful Slave!" The boy named Cody began to reach for a transmitter, but Jake suddenly brandished a pistol.

"I'll take that. Hm' Quite nice. I'll bet that if I push this little button, cops will come out of the woodwork. And, if I smash it, the same thing will happen, right? So, I think I'll put this where it won't cause us any trouble." And he threw it far out into the lake, where it bobbed harmlessly in the water, continuing to send out its 'all-is-well' signal.

Cody studied Danny. He was obviously very sick. From his Position, Lucas saw the same signs.

"Come on Jake, we need to get out of here!"

"Don't fuss so Danny. I want to have a little fun before we toddle off." To Lucas, he said, "Why don't you come with us. Now's your chance to be free." And he aimed the pistol at Cody's forehead.

"You may speak, Lucas."

"I would never leave my Master. Why do you think I would? I love him and he loves me and treats me like a brother."

"Oh God! A couple of…"

"Jake, come on, before I pass out!"

"Oh shut up, Danny. They may have something we can use." To Lucas, "So your kind Master loves you, does he. Danny, show the Slave how your kind master loved you."

Danny swayed a bit, then pulled up his shirt and turned around. A red inflamed burn ran from his shoulder to his waist. "That's what a blow torch will do to your skin. Show him the rest."

"Must I?"

"Yes! I want them to know why I'm going to kill them."

Danny slowly, in great pain, dropped his shorts. His balls were a mass of charred and blistered flesh. They had been burned off! What was left was green with gangrene.

Both Cody and Lucas lost their lunches. Jake opened his shirt; where his nipples should have been, there were two bloody slits instead. The boys heaved again.

"Here, Danny. Keep this trained on smart-shit there." To Cody, "Tell your slave to do what I tell him to and maybe I'll kill you both quickly rather than slowly."

"Do what he says, Lucas"

"Good! Strip him!" Lucas hesitated, then slowly undressed his Master. In a few minutes, Cody stood naked, shivering in the fall air.

Jake took a rope from the cycle bag. "Put your hands in front of you." He tied Cody's hands together, so tightly that Cody winced. Then he threw the other end of the rope over a tree limb, hauled the boy about a foot off the ground, tied the rope off and left him hanging there. As he stood back and admired his naked, dangling captive, he whipped Cody on his back with a tree branch, bloodying it.

Lucas made his move. He jumped Danny and wrestled the pistol away from him. Yes, he had crossed the line, a major firearms violation, but he could care less. He just wanted to rescue Cody before this madman really hurt him.

Bad move! Jake grabbed the gun away from him again and punched him in the gut. Lucas collapsed in a gasping heap.

"You're right, Danny. We need to get out of here. You, 'Lukie'" he kicked him, "get your clothes off! All of them!"

Lucas undressed and Jake stuffed both their clothes into his cycle bag. Taking a pair of steel handcuffs, he backed Lucas up to a tree and shackled his hands around it, throwing the key into the dust between the two prisoners.

"I'd like to stay and watch you tear your hands off trying the reach the key, but we really must be going. Just think what the bears and cougars will do when they find all this nicely trapped fresh meat."

Cody was desperate. "Please let my slave go. I promise we won't tell! Kill me if you must, but don't hurt him!"

"Jake, please don't hurt them! If you do, we're no better than the Old Man was."

Jake sighed. "I don't know why I listen to you, Danny. All right, I'll give them a chance. But, if we're caught, we'll tell everyone you helped us escape. You know what that means."

"Yes! Please! We promise."

Danny moved a log close to Cody. He whispered to him, "I won't let him kill you. I won't! I hope you get loose before the critters get you."

Cody whispered back, "I hope you will find peace." Even if the police did not catch them, he had felt how Danny was burning in pain and fever. He could see that Danny had only a few days before the infection-spawned fever killed him.

The two of them climbed on the cycle and continued over the mountain and onto the Coast Highway. It wasn't the best choice, but it was the only way north.

Night came and they had not gone far, when Jake spied two motorcycle cops bearing down on them from the rear. Unknown to either of them, the Old Man's cycle had a tracking device, so the authorities had been able to find them very quickly.

"Please stop, Jake. We're trapped and I can't take any more," Danny gasped.

"No! I'm not going to stop until you are safe," replied Jake as he gunned the cycle forward. Ahead, they could now see the lights of a police roadblock.

Danny leaned forward and, with the last of his strength, grabbed the handlebar of the cycle and forced it and them over the cliff.

For a few seconds, they floated free and Danny shouted, "Thank you for everything, Jake! I love you!"

An instant of incredible agony… and then he was in the Next World… no pain… no sorrow… no terror… with his mother's arms around him.

It took the pursuing officers almost thirty minutes to reach the broken bodies on the rocks below the cliff. They, of course, reported both Danny and Jake were dead. They found mixed clothing strewn about by the force of the crash, bearing the names Lucas and Cody Davidson… obviously stolen.

One of the officers examined Danny's body and promptly lost his supper. His partner joined him a short time later.

"There's something strange, here," he reported to his Chief Inspector, waiting at the top of the cliff. "I can't find any slave identification on the young boy, only a crude brand on his right thigh. And he has some simply indescribable recent injuries that were not caused by the crash. I can't believe what I see here!"

"Very well," replied the Chief. Let's get the bodies up here and we'll ask the ME (Medical Examiner) to have a look at him before we dispose of them.

Using a portable monitor, the ME quickly found Jake's identity and records in the DNA registry. He found Danny's also, but what he found amazed him. "Sir, according to the registry, this boy died seven years ago from influenza. And he was never a slave. Cletus Lovett was not his owner. He was his uncle. And, the injuries suggest extreme abuse by someone. We shall have to open a formal investigation."

"Yes, we have a lot of unanswered questions about the obvious homicide of the slave's owner and… it now appears… the boy's uncle."

Two weeks later, the Chief Inspector, Medical Examiner and the investigating officers all were present when the District Magistrate called the Inquest to order.

"Her Majesty's Inquest, Docket Number 2008-131 into the deaths of Cletus Lemuel Lovett, Jacob Orestes White… a Class Three Slave… and Daniel Patrick O'Leary… status undetermined… is now in session. Let the record show the appropriate persons are present. You may proceed Chief Inspector."

The Chief quickly outlined the basic facts of the case… the homicide of the Old Man, the search for the alleged runaway slaves and their subsequent deaths in the crash.

The ME spoke next, "The Old Man died from an axe wound to the head. Subsequently, the same axe, found at the scene and containing the fingerprints of the alleged killer, the slave, Jacob White, further mutilated his body. But there are several puzzling aspects in the records of the two alleged runaways. Here are all three records to be entered on the docket.

Cletus Lemuel Lovett 1956 Born in County Antrim, Ireland Parents not recorded Educated in local primary school BNA Record begins 22 AUG 1978 Emigrated to BNA Established successful hog breeding operation 19 APR 1980 Married Elizabeth Alice Johnston 17 NOV 1996 Adopted nephew, Daniel Patrick O'Leary upon the death of his only parent 20 DEC 2001 Reported death of wife, Elizabeth Alice Lovett and nephew Daniel Patrick O'Leary Cause of death - Influenza, no autopsy.

Jacob Orestes White 19 APR 1985 Born to Lemuel and Arissa White (both deceased) 20 JUN 1997 Orphaned - parents killed in boat accident Adjudged Class Two Slave Purchased by Cletus Abner Lovett 19 NOV 1999 Status raised to Class Three at owner's request Racial disharmony, no hearing Alleged sexual misconduct, no hearing

Daniel Patrick O'Leary 23 JUN 1994 Born to Sean David O'Leary and Bridget Willingham Father abandoned mother and child at birth 17 NOV 1996 Mother killed in traffic accident Adopted by Cletus and Elizabeth (Bessie) Alice Lovett (deceased 28 OCT 2001) 4 SEP 2000 Enrolled, Williston Primary School 20 DEC 2001 Deceased Cause of death, Influenza Death reported by Cletus Lovett, no autopsy

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